Going for the Gold
by gopadfoot
Summary: Mycroft has messed up, and needs to find out where he has gone wrong. Ironically, the goldfish are the only one who can be of help. A Mycroft character exploration, and character growth.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Wow, another character piece about Mycroft and his inner world. Did someone say obsessed? Who, me?

For those who wonder where all this is coming from, let me address my POV. (If that bores you, skip this part.) I see the main Sherlock characters in the last episode going through he'll, but each one getting some sort of happy ending- or almost.

John and Sherlock are besties again, solving crimes and raising Rosie. Mrs. Hudson has her boys back. Lestrade has finally gained Sherlock's respect, enough to remember his name (!), and has seen Sherlock become a good man. Molly is a bit more complicated, as we don't know exactly what occurred to her afterwards, but she has obviously found some happiness, and has repaired her friendship with Sherlock. Even Eurus is brought out of her fugue under Sherlock's tender care.

So who's left? Mycroft, with all he's done, and suffered, for the sake of his family, watches all he has tried to maintain crumble, his sister get the better of him, and to top it all off, everyone blames him. Sherlock, John, his parents, and mostly he himself. He gets no acknowledgement, no consolation, and ends up even more alone than before. All he gets is a hint of forgiveness, when Mummy squeezes his hand. Yet it must be small comfort, when Sherlock has suddenly replaced him as the reliable son, and Eurus is getting unconditional love despite what she has done, while he was harshly judged.

Did Mycroft deserve all of that? That depends on your opinion. Has he brought it all unto himself? Again, there are various opinions and viewpoints, all worthy of being expressed and debated. In this piece, I want to take a serious, but somewhat humorous look at all of that, and would love to hear your thoughts. Sorry for the long note.

This story will be about three or four chapters long.

* * *

Somewhere, somehow, he had gone wrong. He had messed up, not only his own life, but that of all he should have cared for. So they told him.

Some believed him to lack essential qualities required to be trusted his decisions. "You must be very limited," indeed. He was, if only because he couldn't figure out how his good intentions had come to this.

Others went further. They believed him to have messed up, not because he had gone wrong, but only because he hadn't cared to ensure a different outcome. "Get out of my house, you reptile."

Still others believed him to have actually desired at least part of the outcome, and be deserving of some sort of cosmic justice for his less-than-savory intentions. "What goes around, comes around."

One was more sympathetic, perhaps from the personal experience of unintentionally messing up other lives. Still, he got no trust in his abilities from that quarter, even if he did get credit for intention. "He did the best he could." Yet, he was found lacking in judgement, and even his ability to judge his own strengths. "He's not as strong as he thinks."

All that was left for him was to figure out where he had gone so wrong, and to consider how to fix it. That is, if he even wanted to.

The key to his puzzle could only be hidden in one place, on waters he feared to tread. Because those waters were teaming with goldfish, naturally. He groaned as he realized the awful mixed metaphor he had just created. Nevertheless, he would need to jump into the deep end, and ride the waves. And stop with the awful usage of watery metaphors.

Ah, the goldfish. Whatever he was lacking was obviously something that the goldfish had in abundance. It was a simple deduction, after all. No goldfish he knew had gotten himself into quite such situations as he had, or brought disaster upon their loved ones in the magnitude he had managed to. Which resulted in a simple equation: Goldfish: 1, Mycroft:0.

He ran all the possibilities through his super-efficient brain, sorting, analyzing and deducting. Some possibilities were quickly dismissed. Goldfish might have qualities like stupidity and gullibility in abundance, but Mycroft couldn't accept that he would benefit from more of those.

Sentiment, then. Goldfish embraced sentiment, and valued it highly. Mycroft wasn't foolish enough to deny that he might experience sentiment on occasion, but he was definitely wary of engaging with it. Yet it seemed plausible to him that sentiment was the thing he was lacking, of not in actual ability to feel it, but in readiness to use it.

Mycroft wasn't sure where all this would lead, but he could try.


	2. Chapter 2

Mycroft was fortunate that he had intensively studied the ways of the goldfish- or humans, as he referred to them in his kinder moments. If he was indeed to be kinder, as sentiment was sure to guide him, he might begin by using the more benign term.

The British Government was good at playing the game, but he would need to do more. He would need to invest himself in a way he had never done before, and stretch himself to his limits. He was conscious of the fact that he could not approach this as an experiment to perform, or his test subjects would catch on all too quickly. (Humans were Rather slow, but they were sometimes remarkably adept at sensing insincerity.) Rather, he would perform it as a sacred duty, with full attention and commitment.

Where to start, that was the first step. With whom could he begin mending bridges, with the least risk of causing even more harm? Or, if he were to be painfully honest with himself, whose rejection would hurt the least?

The older woman was very surprised when Mycroft knocked on her door. "Sherlock should still be home," she informed him stiffly. "I just brought him tea."

"May I ask for a moment of your time, Mrs. Hudson?" Mycroft asked politely, taking care to keep all smarminess from his voice, and hoping his sincerity woukd come through. A reluctant invitation followed.

"Here," he offered her a parcel, awkwardly dangling it from his right hand. "A, ah, housewarming present. In honor of your newly renovated flat."

She looked at him, astounded. Then she pursed her lips, and shook her head from side to side, slowly, while Mycroft nearly squirmed under her disapproving gaze. "Your money won't make up for the range you have cause, Mycroft Holmes. Really, you think bribery would work with _me_?!" She gave a bitter sort of laugh. "There should never have been a bomb going off in my house."

The old lady's words were perfectly aimed arrows that found their intended target. Mycroft was dearly tempted to leave without another word, but wasn't ready to admit defeat. If gift-giving didn't work, what would a goldfish do next? Be hurt. (He already was.) Express regret. Say "I'm sorry," and hope for forgiveness.

So Mycroft gulped, and attempted to do just that. "Mrs. Hudson, I'm sorry about what happened. I know it was my fault. I regret that you've had to experience all of that."

The landlady's expression softened, and Mycroft felt wild hope leaping into his heart, making the organ beat at a faster tempo. "It's good to know you're sorry," she said at last. "You should be. Family is all we have in the end, after all. Just look at what you've done to yours."

She turned around, ignoring both Mycroft and his peace offering. Mycroft admitted defeat, and left without another word.

The battle had been lost, but there still was a war to be won. Mycroft Holmes was nothing if not persistent. He would try again.

Reviewing his attempt, Mycroft poked and prodded his scheme for holes. He finally rationalized that he had been wrong to start with the landlady. Indeed, her rejection would probably hurt less than those of the others, but, conversely, she was the least likely to indulge him. The reason for both being that Mrs. Hudson had the least ties to him, whether in kinship or obligation. Logically, if he wanted the best chance of success, he should attempt it with those he had the _most_ ties to.

"Mummy," Mycroft's voice trembled just the tiniest bit, when his mother picked up. He picked up speed, anxious to get the words out before he lost all courage. "I know I've hurt you. I know you're angry. I only ask you to believe me that I truly meant what's best for you. I'm sorry, Mummy, I really am."

The silence on the other end of the line was excruciating. Finally, Mrs. Holmes took pity on her son by ending it. "We trusted you, Mycroft. Yet you destroyed that trust by lying to us, again and again. Don't think you can regain our trust with a few apologies."

"I... understand. I'm not asking for-for that," Mycroft choked out the words. "All I'm asking is for- for you to understand, that I didn't mean to hurt you. I really didn't."

"Yet you did," Mummy retorted, her voice flat. "Look, Mycroft, I forgive you. I understand that you just aren't capable of making proper choices. As long as you understand that, and let others guide you, we are willing to make a fresh start. You could start by listening to Sherlock, as _he_ at least seems to know what he's doing."

"Yes, Mummy," Mycroft replied, barely hiding the bitterness in his voice. "Of course, Mummy."

Mycroft wouldn't try with John now. He was both the most volatile, and the least likely to be convinced. There was one more person he could try.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at his brother. Mycroft supposed it _was_ a bit strange, him coming to visit, and then blurting this statement out of the blue.

"I'm sure there's good reason, too," the younger brother answered flippantly.

"No, I'm serious this time. You know, we haven't really discussed what happened when you were younger. I know you've felt betrayed by me lying to you, for all these years. I just want you to know, that I'm truly sorry about that."

"Sorry that your lie was discovered, you mean," Sherlock smirked. "Now, was there anything else?"

"Yes. I.." Mycroft faltered slightly under the piercing gaze of his younger sibling. "I want to remind you, that I'm still here for you, if you ever need me."

"Great, I'll let you know if I noticed," Sherlock smirked, and grabbed his violin. The grating notes that followed were a grand send-off song for Big Brother, who took the hint and left.

Once again, he'd gone wrong. Or, perhaps, he had taken the right steps, but prematurely. The others weren't yet ready to reciprocate. Perhaps he had even built some sort of bridge in his relationships, even if all that came through on his side was bitterness and disappointment.

Mycroft sighed. He believed he had done all he could from his side. But he wasn't satisfied, yet. Was his little project only a form of absolution, or a duty to be fulfilled? Or was his motivation derived from a different source.

 _No. I'm not lonely, Sherlock. Only, feeling a bit out of place. A bit... isolated. Alright, but I'm just a little bit lonely. And hurting, too._ _And I must still be doing something wrong, if I'm still being rejected by everyone._

His project would need another analysis. This time, he would dig deeper. Besides showing and expressing sentiment, there must be something else he had missed. Mycroft thought about all the different interactions he had experienced, and observed, between himself and those he cared for, and the others among themselves.

Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson. Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock. Sherlock and John. John and Sherlock. Mummy. Dad. Mummy and Dad. Mummy and Dad and Sherlock. All of the above, and himself. _What was he doing differently?_

Mycroft's conclusion, once he added up all the data, astounded him. It seemed wrong. It seemed counterintuitive. It seemed unbelievable. And it was the only conclusion that made sense.

A daring thought occurred to him. _Why not?_ To Mycroft, it might have once been unconscionable, but he didn't have a lot if choices left, did he?

As he contemplated the idea, Mycroft let out a chuckle. Who knows, it might even, as humans tended to express themselves, be _fun_!

* * *

 **A/N:** What, in your opinion, is Mycroft missing? What will he be doing differently now?

I'll also let all of you know, that reviews will really be appreciated. Just in case you weren't aware;)


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